


It's good to be home

by handholdinglion



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:54:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28623630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handholdinglion/pseuds/handholdinglion
Summary: Upon his return to the inn this evening Geralt had wanted one thing and one thing only, to hold his bard. Jaskier had thankfully taken one look at him, with a light layer of frost atop his black cloak and fingers twisted in newly acquired fur gloves, courtesy of the bard himself, and jumped up from his seat amongst the friendly townsfolk to push the Witcher up the stairs.or Geralt of Rivia loves his bard.A gift for @sapphicyen on twitter, I love you and I'm so proud of how hard you have been working on your uni stuff!!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 215





	It's good to be home

Jaskier’s chuckles continue to flutter across the air around them as the Witcher’s cold nose lights up the sensitive areas in his neck. But Geralt’s nuzzling was not simply a quest for warmth, no, it was a quest for happiness, that of his bard and in turn, himself. 

There was nothing that made Geralt happier than the twinkling sound of Jaskier’s laughter, whether his poet was producing chuckles of mischief or giggles of surprise,  _ fuck _ he loved it all. The frequency of this noise must contain some type of magic, a magic that brought life to his heart of stone, that made him feel almost human again, something he hadn't felt since he was a child.

Not only does the  _ sound  _ of his lover’s laugh help him, but the bright light such laughter ignites in the bard’s ocean-blue eyes sparks a flame inside the Witcher that brings warmth to his cold, dark mind. It returns the feeling back to the tips of his sword-callused fingers and blossoms sweet tingles that dance across his lips, to which the only cure is to press them against the peach-soft skin of the very same bard that spawned such vicious need.

That same vicious need grips Geralt now as they lay tangled together amongst the sheets of their bed in some nondescript somewhere in western Redania. 

Though winter had thawed enough to free the wolves of Kaer Morhen from their winter palace hidden amongst the various peaks of Kaedwen’s mountain region, this year it seems reluctant to release the continent from its icy grip just yet. Some nights the wind still howled through gaps in poorly constructed walls, forcing its frosty breath into even the cosiest of inn rooms, so one can only imagine how cold it must be travelling outside in such weather.

The Witcher had just returned from the grips of said howling wind, after completing a journey to collect some rare herb and ingredients from a village nearby, and though the trip had only taken just over a day to complete Geralt had still found himself missing the bard. 

Jaskier had noticed the Witcher often got more clingy and openly affectionate after winter, almost as though the often depressing and heavy weight of the world was yet to be returned to his shoulders and it seemed as though Geralt genuinely had missed the bard’s presence during their season, or sometimes seasons, apart. 

He enjoyed revelling in the easily given affection of his Witcher during this time, in which soft kisses would be placed upon the corner of his lips or cheek as a simple sign of gratitude. This isn’t to say that his Witcher wasn't soft and affectionate to him during the rest of the year,  _ he certainly was, _ just that these soft touches were often reserved for moments they had to themselves tucked away in their room at an inn or lost amongst the greenery of the continents great forests, and rarely happened where others could see. 

Showing his love for the bard in public was also something that Geralt greatly enjoyed though he felt it wasn’t something he was able to do all that often. His mind was so busy looking out for threats or actively avoiding awkward interactions, that Geralt often found himself feeling uncomfortable or simply forgetting to brush a hand across Jaskier’s where it rested atop their table or pressing his lips to the bard's soft skin in appreciation for a wonderful performance or expertly chosen retort against bigoted townspeople.

Upon his return to the inn this evening, Geralt had wanted one thing and one thing only, to hold his bard. Jaskier had thankfully taken one look at him, with a light layer of frost atop his black cloak and fingers twisted in newly acquired fur gloves,  _ courtesy of the bard himself, _ and jumped up from his seat amongst the friendly townsfolk to push the Witcher up the stairs.

Once in the room Geralt had stood patiently while the bard removed his cloak and gloves, softly kissing the Witcher’s frostbitten fingers and brushing a stray hair or two behind his equally cold ears, before tugging Jaskier towards the bed and pushing him into it, both still fully clothed.

The bard still wriggled in his hold now, chuckling as Geralt’s cold nose worms its way under the collar of his doublet in its search for warmth and the smell of home. Geralt knows there is an embarrassingly big smile on his own face right now but can’t find the energy to care, instead using it to untuck Jaskier’s chemise from his pants and press his cold fingers into the warm, fuzzy skin of the bard’s belly. 

Jaskier gasps loudly, hands coming up to try and bat the icicles his Witcher calls fingers away from him, but before he can get a good enough grip Geralt begins to tickle him, one hand at his waist and the other travelling quickly to upwards. 

They wrestle and gasp and laugh loudly together for a few minutes, both trying to get the upper hand before the bard plays the sneaky move of grabbing his Witcher tight and pulling his head up to press their lips together in a soft, disarming kiss. 

It works like magic, Geralt, who moments before seemed to be on a single minded mission to suck the air from Jaskier’s lungs, melts in said man's grip. The Witcher’s tickling hands shift to instead hold the bard, thumbs stroking softly against Jaskier’s skin as they both shift to lay facing each other.  Sighs are pressed into each other's mouths, lips brushing and pressing together as they relearn the taste of one another as though they hadn’t seen one another in months rather than the matter of hours it had actually been since their last kiss.

They pull away slowly, allowing themselves to take in the effect their outpouring of love has had on the other as they continue to share the breath between them. Geralt’s hand, now warm after its exploration, lifts to cup the bard’s cheek, feeling the steady warmth of the other’s blush beneath his palm. The Witcher’s smile, that forms in response to such a precious feeling, is traced softly by Jaskier’s fingers, that continue to explore the beautiful face before him, before returning once more to his lover's soft smile.

The soft touches to his face cause the Witcher’s eyelids to flicker, suddenly recognising his own tiredness after his long journey. Geralt tries to fight it for a moment wanting to stay awake and close to Jaskier before he feels the bard’s feather light touch brush across his heavy eyelids helping them slide closed once more.

“Sleep now, dear heart. There’s time for more later.” Jaskier whispers, shifting carefully to press a kiss to the small scar on Geralt's forehead before pulling away to watch the relaxed Witcher once more.

“I love you,” the Witcher murmurs, nuzzling against the palm that rests gently upon his cheek.

“I love you too.” replies his bard, smiling softly at the sight before him before allowing his own eyes to drift slowly closed.  _ It’s good to be home. _


End file.
